


Summer Camp

by Virago77



Series: Summer Writing Challenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Summer writing challenge, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virago77/pseuds/Virago77
Summary: Sam and Dean go to summer camp...80's slasher-movie style.





	Summer Camp

  1. Summer Camp



 

            “C’mon Dean, it’s not so bad,” said Sam while unconvincingly attempting to hide a chuckle.

            “Sam this is terrible,” Dean glared at Sam before looking down at himself.  He was wearing shorts—short-shorts, tube socks and sneakers.

            “At least you get to have a whistle.  You liked the whistle when you were a fake gym teacher,” Sam said and then burst into peals of laughter as he remembered his brother’s portrayal of a very stereotypical high school Phys Ed teacher.

            “Shut up, Sam!  This was a bad idea.”

            “This was _your_ idea! ‘It’s a marine buddy of dad’s, Sam, we gotta take the case,’ was what you said if I remember correctly.”

            “I didn’t think he meant ‘summer’ camp,” Dean groaned as he looked down at his tee shirt.  There was an enormous Indian headdress dead center with the name ‘Camp Wanuh Haka Lugee’ beneath it.  “This is a nightmare Sam!”

            Sam laughed, “It’s really not Dean.  We always wanted to go to summer camp when we were kids, remember?  Now’s our chance.”

            “Dude we’re probably gonna get hacked and slashed by some Jason Voorhees wannabe,” Dean grumbled.

            “Well not of we don’t drink, do drugs, or have sex.”  Dean stared at Sam in disbelief for several seconds before they both started laughing.  “We are _so_ gonna die!” Sam conceded.

 

            They didn’t get hacked or slashed, but it was a near thing.

 

            Sam and Dean were surprisingly good at being camp counselors.  They handled wrangling pubescent children off their buses and into the cabins.  Dinner was a breeze, as was breakfast the following morning.  Their first day, there was archery, which Dean excelled at, and canoeing, at which Sam was a natural.  Dean was a regular Martha Stewart when it came to arts and crafts, and of course Sam could handle all of the touchy-feely advisory stuff.  They both rocked at campfires, s’mores and ghost stories.  And they even managed to avoid or gently refuse all passes made at them by their fellow counselors.

            Their fifth day at camp, after lights out and a secondary cabin check, Sam hauled Dean behind the building and kissed him breathless.  “What was that for?” Dean panted.

            “Well, we’re in the middle of what’s starting to look like an 80’s horror movie at a sleepaway camp.  It wouldn’t be right if we didn’t…” Sam let the sentence hang with a filthy grin on his lips.

            “I like the way you think,” Dean grinned back and then dove in for another kiss. 

            They fumbled their hands into each other’s shorts, wrapping too dry fingers around stiffening cocks.  Then it was a race to see which one could get the other off fastest.

            They swallowed each other’s laughter and moans with sloppy, wet kisses as they humped and pulled at each other.  Dean played dirty when he pressed the tip of his thumb against Sam’s slit and twisted his hand in a circular motion.  Sam groaned into Dean’s mouth and jerked against him.  But it was Sam whining in Dean’s ear, begging for his brother to, “ _Make me feel good_ ,” and, “ _Make me come_ ,” that set Dean off.  Dean came first, biting at Sam’s neck to stifle his cry and spurted warm jets of come into his hand.  Sam came shaking moments after.

 

            On day seven, they lost two kids in the woods and found them later huddled in a tree, terrified that a bear was going to eat them.  There was no bear to be found.  They managed to stop all attempts by the teens to devirginize one another—though they were loathed to do so.  On day ten, they led a midnight excursion to raid the kitchen for leftover desserts.  The brothers even managed to get some more kissing and groping done in their cabin, in the woods, in the boathouse, and once behind the owner’s cabin, which of course was when the shit hit the fan.

            Their problem turned out to be the restless spirit of the wife of the previous camp owner.  Apparently her husband caught her getting frisky with the cook and hacked them both to death with an ax.  He burned the cook’s body, but felt guilty when it came time to burn his wife and decided to bury her on the grounds instead.

            After a routine salt-and-burn, Sam and Dean opted to stay another week.  If for no other reason than they got to live out of rite of passage they had previously been denied.

            When they left the camp in the rearview mirror, the boys were tanned, oddly rested, and smiling fondly at the memories they had made.


End file.
